


drive, just drive

by LydiaOfNarnia



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, On the Run, Uber, questionable judgement calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 22:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOfNarnia/pseuds/LydiaOfNarnia
Summary: “You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!’”





	drive, just drive

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

George Luz has been waiting for his damn Uber passenger for four and a half minutes already when the back door of his car is suddenly flung wide open.

It gives him a small heart attack, because the middle of a shady looking neighborhood at eleven o’clock at night is not the sort of place you want to be caught with your doors unlocked. He’d sworn he had locked the doors, too – but apparently not if the heavily-breathing man in the back of his car has anything to say about it.

“Hi –” George says, but the words have no sooner passed his lips then the guy whirls towards him and hollers, **_“JUST DRIVE!”_**

George doesn’t think. Yelling triggers an instinctual obedience in him, so he doesn’t give himself time to process – not the lack of introduction, the furious order, or the look of absolute desperation on his passenger’s face. He came here to drive, after all.

He hits the gas and floors it.

They’re halfway down the next block before he gets the presence of mind to look back at his passenger again. The man is still panting, crouched low in his seat. He’s peering over the seat, out the back window. George can only see the profile of his alarmed expression, but he makes out wide, dark eyes set in a strong-featured face. The guy has dark hair, tanned skin, and a frame that looks like he bench-presses tanks for a living. Muscles through the sleeves of his grey t-shirt, and sweat glistens off his brow.

That’s the moment George realizes that the guy in his backseat is really, really hot.

Look, George is a single twenty-something holding down a desk job and working nights as an Uber driver just to pay the bills. He doesn’t have a lot of options, so he’ll take what he can get. In this case, he’s got a gorgeous, really freaked out Adonis in the back of his car, and he’s gonna roll with it.

“So,” he says cheerfully, “it’s a nice night, huh?”

The guy says nothing. Admittedly, that attempt at small talk was cringeworthy at best. That’s not going to deter George at all.

“Hell of a nice night for chicken. I mean, when you’ve got a craving, you’ve got a craving, right?”

This makes the guy shoot him a look. George is familiar with looks like those – he’s gotten them from his mother, siblings, and friends enough times that he knows what it means. The man in his backseat is currently questioning if he’s messing around with him, or just crazy.

George isn’t about to judge a man who needs to go on a midnight fast food run on a Monday night. He’s been there. Everybody’s been there. Whatever’s going on with this guy is none of his business. Still, George is nothing but a responsible driver. (Though if he would up having to take this gorgeous man back to his house, he would not be complaining.)

“Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning over to check where the hell this route is taking them, “you do wanna go to – _Chucky’s Chicken and Pizzeria_ , right?”

The alarmed man takes a second to look very, very confused. “What?”

George raises an eyebrow at him through the rearview mirror. Angry and dumb – he can work with that. He never claimed to have morals. “Well, I guess I’m your Uber driver?”

“I didn’t order any fuckin’ Uber!” the guy spits, and goes back to peering anxiously over the backseat.

Luz blinks, turns his attention back to the road, and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Well, _that_ wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

If this guy isn’t the person he’s supposed to pick up, that means, he just drove away with the wrong passenger. The guy who he’s supposed to be driving around is all the way back on that shady street corner, calling up Uber and complaining right now. Ahh, hell. His rating is definitely going down from this.

Also, there’s a good chance that the guy he is driving around is being chased by someone; and if his jumpiness is any indication, it’s either people trying to kill him, or the cops. Maybe both. That’s not great either, but Luz kind of accepted this fact the moment the hot stranger jumped into his car.

“Well,” he sighs, “I guess this means you don’t wanna go get pizza.”

The guy shoots Luz a look which implies he really wants to lean up and hit him. _God,_ thinks Luz, imagining the dude close enough to touch him, _please._

“Well, why’d you get in the car?” he demands instead, figuring he’s at least owed some explanation. If he’s driving around a murderer, it would be cool to know – before he, you know, hits on him or something.

The guy makes a growling noise in the back of his throat, more frustrated and distressed than angry. “How the hell was I supposed to know those sort of fireworks were illegal?”

“You’re running from cops because of fireworks?” George asks, unimpressed.

“No! I’m running from cops because of the warehouse fire!”

The car swerves. “You set a _warehouse_ on fire?”

The guy is quiet for a moment. “Technically,” he says after a moment, “the firework set it on fire. And it was an abandoned warehouse. And it _wasn’t my idea.”_

“Oh my god,” George says, and drives a little bit faster.

He definitely didn’t sign up for playing getaway driver for a rogue arsonist (accidental or not). If he gets arrested tonight, no one is paying his bail. His mother will probably show up at the station just to slap him silly, and then leave him there. This is not the best situation to be in.

The guy’s hand is now drumming against the back of George’s seat, creating a drumbeat of anxiety that echoes through the car. George feels ready to start vibrating, like one of those wind-up toys that start shaking when you let them go. This is the most illegal thing he’s done in his life, and he didn’t even do anything.

“I gotta go somewhere else tonight,” the guy mutters. “I can’t go home. What the hell am I gonna do?”

George pauses. He takes stock of himself. He turns the situation over and over in his mind.

The bottom line: he’s a lost Uber driver with a very, very hot potential criminal in the back of his car. He’s stressed out, confused, and a little freaked out.

The easy thing to do would be to throw the guy out. He could rid himself of any potential guilt, and never have to think of this again. No trouble, no problems.

George has never been good at taking the easy way out.

“I’ve got a couch,” he sighs. “You need somewhere to crash, my place is on the other side of town.”

The guy blinks at him, incredulous. He looks like he’s just been handed a million bucks. “Why would you do that?”

George really has no clue himself – but he figures if he’s in over his head already, he might as well roll with it.

“I’m a nice guy, okay?” he replies. “Also, I’m apparently your Uber driver. It’s my job to take you where you wanna go. Would that be my place?”

The guy stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable, before he sighs and slumps forward in his seat. He looks as if a large weight has just been lifted off his shoulders, and it reduces the tension in the car by half.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters, voice echoing in the quiet car. “I’ll go wherever you’re takin’ me.”


End file.
